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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27789448">Spoils of War</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naemi/pseuds/Naemi'>Naemi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(as it should), (it's not too much pain either (I hope)), Aroused Victim, Forced Orgasm (implied), Hand Jobs, M/M, Misuse of Weaponry, Multiple orgasms (implied), Object Insertion, Post Battle, Rape, Sexual use of religious objects, Sounding, Though Pleasure Prevails, Unwilling Arousal, pleasure and pain</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 14:22:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,391</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27789448</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naemi/pseuds/Naemi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When one battle ends, another begins.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Male Character(s)/Original Male Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Naughty List 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Revelation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/gifts">Nununununu</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dear Nununununu, I sincerely hope this is something you'll enjoy. In any case, I had fun writing it, although I must admit it was also quite challenging for a number of reasons. Hopefully, that doesn't show too much (eep)!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Elden knows their time is running out when he hears the clanks of rage-swung swords and the screams of battle-wounded men draw ever closer.</p><p>Quickly, he helps to usher the women and children seeking shelter behind these holy stone walls into the secret tunnels, the last refuge the priesthood has to offer.</p><p>After the entrance is sealed and hidden, Elden alone remains. This is the rule: One Man of Faith must always guard the sanctum, in peace and war, through health and pestilence, and because Elden is the youngest and fittest of all priests, he volunteers. </p><p>When the victorious foreign soldiers breach the temple doors with war cries on their lips and battle marks on their armor, they find him kneeling on the floor before the altar. In one hand, he clutches his small Symbol of Light. His eyes are firmly closed and his lips silently form the ancient words of prayer so firmly imprinted on his mind—Elden's heart, albeit filled with unease, knows no real dread. His God is benevolent, a just ruler and supreme protector, and He will not see His servants harmed. It never crosses the young man's mind that his God might not have authority over the savage hordes invading from the West. </p><p>Growing up in an era of peace and prosperity, with tales of war and suffering seemingly as old as time, and cloistered by the temple from the day he was born, Elden has hardly any concept of the evils mankind is capable of committing. When a pair of strong hands grabs him by his robe and hair to yank him up, he hisses quietly but remains otherwise calm, wearing his faith like a shield.</p><p>He's forced to his feet and swirled around, and as he opens his eyes to assess the intruder, he finds himself face to face with an armor-clad man looking not much his elder. </p><p>The warrior utters something in a language Elden can't understand. Thus, he stares at the dirty face in front of him, watches as lips form words again, and remains silent until the man's features morph into something reminiscent of menace. Yet it isn't his expression that makes fear rear its ugly head in Elden's heart, nor the warrior reaching for the dagger on his side, but the sudden choir of screams from outside: high-pitched, haunting sounds unlike the moans of battle.</p><p>Eyes wide, Elden scrambles for words, perhaps an inquiry, more likely a plea, but not a word leaves his mouth when that dagger is produced and pointed at his heart. With his free hand, the warrior clamps Elden's shoulder, and in that moment, Elden is positive his life is forfeit.</p><p>Trembling as he closes his eyes and resorts to prayer again, he awaits the slash of the blade. When it comes, it takes him a moment to grasp that it didn't cut through flesh and muscle but merely the fabric of his robes.</p><p>For another heartbeat, nothing happens, and then, the tear is expanded all the way to the bottom with a terrible sound. Callous hands yank the cotton back over his shoulders, and Elden trembles again, this time from the cool air on his exposed skin.</p><p>His mind repeats another prayer and his hand clutches the small silver symbol tighter as for the first time ever in his adult life, somebody other than himself touches his chest. It's strange but bearable until calloused fingers find a nipple and pinch it hard. When Elden makes a pained sound, the warrior laughs.</p><p>Gritting his teeth to prevent another sound from escaping, Elden steels himself for what might come next but finds himself entirely unprepared for the hand trailing down to his crotch and squeezing him through his pants. The rough touch makes his hips jerk, which elicits only more laughter.</p><p>Elden's cheeks flush. Not only is this highly inappropriate, but he also knows he has little chance to stop it; he doesn't know how, anyway. And after the warrior has given his cock a few strokes, each gentler than the first, Elden starts to think that maybe, this won't be too bad after all.</p><p>He scolds himself for the thought, but the damage is done. Something about the way his dick grows hard under the touch is as intriguing as it's terrifying.</p><p>However, he revises that last thought quickly when he hears another rip of fabric. Cracking his eyes open, Elden realizes his pants are now prey to the dagger. They're torn in an instant, and Elden is greeted with the sight of his semi-hard cock and watches, to his horror, as the warrior wraps his hand around it to resume stroking him.</p><p>The warmth spreading in his groins is nothing compared to the heat in his cheeks, and Elden shakes his head.</p><p>“No, please,” he utters as he tries to push the man back with both hands in fists.</p><p>The warrior grabs him by the wrists and shakes his head as well. He says something in his native language, cocks his head to the side, and first looks at Elden then down on his clenched fists. He nods to the Symbol of Light in the young priest's firm grip; only the tapered tip emerges, but it's enough to pique his interest.</p><p>Elden follows his gaze and his eyes widen. “It's not a weapon,” he says as realization hits him. He opens his hand to reveal the symbol in full and waves his other hand to its wall-high counterpart behind them.</p><p>The warrior furrows his brow.</p><p>“God? Pray?” His accent mangles even these simple words.</p><p>Elden nods, and so does the man as he takes the item out of Elden's hand.</p><p>With his anchor for solace gone, the young priest feels even more defenseless as before. He watches the warrior eye the silver symbol carefully until a grin nothing short of wicked appears on his face. He mutters something, perhaps to himself, then gestures for Elden to put his hands behind his back.</p><p>Elden obeys.</p><p>“No move.”</p><p>With that, the man squats down in front of him, and when he shifts his gaze to Elden's now softened cock, Elden wants to squeeze his eyes shut again. Instead he watches in a mixture of fascination and horror as he's stroked back to hardness again. He never knew such a sensation before. Of course, he's touched himself sometimes, but because it's forbidden, he never did it for long. He was curious, but not enough to risk punishment.</p><p>Now, it washes over him like a wave, although what exactly <i>it</i> is, he doesn't know. But it feels good, and Elden can't figure out why it should be forbidden in the first place if it's such a joyful thing.</p><p>His contemplation, accompanied by small moans he doesn't even know he's making, comes to an end when the warrior stills his hand. Elden blinks to see something glistening at the tip of his cock, but before he even realizes the wet feeling, another sensation washes over him as the warrior moves his other hand above his dick and blocks it from his view. At first, Elden can't pinpoint what he feels; it's something like a sting or a burn, certainly uncomfortable.</p><p>He squirms when the feeling turns into a sharper kind of pain, but the warrior barks at him—“No move!”—and somehow, Elden manages to breathe through it.</p><p>And then, when the warrior opens his fist, it finally hits him: It's his beloved symbol, his connection to his God and his faith and everything he holds dear. The warrior is now holding its round end between his thumb and forefinger, and Elden can see that the tip is <i>inside him</i>.</p><p>He gasps and shrieks, but when he squirms again, the pain intensifies, and so he stands still like one of the many holy statues witnessing his downfall and stares in shock as the Symbol of Light disappears ever deeper in his dick until its shape forbids further penetration.</p><p>The warrior looks up at him, but Elden fails to read his expression. He's too occupied with breathing, and to his relief, he finds the calmer he is, the more he relaxes his body, the lesser it hurts. </p><p>
  <i>It's good, it's all right. It will be over soon.</i>
</p><p>“Now, pray.”</p><p>The warrior resumes to stroke Elden's cock, and the sensation almost makes him faint. Pleasure and pain mix and mingle and threaten to descend upon him like a beast from scripture.</p><p>“Pray. Pray!”</p><p>And he does, slowly and barely audible at first, but then louder: a panting whisper when the warrior strokes him harder. Louder yet: a clipped murmur when he starts pulling out the symbol only push it back inside again.</p><p>And louder yet: almost a scream as the the movements blur into one another and it's so intense, so fully consuming that Elden cannot tell where pleasure starts and pain ends; he can't even tell if it hurts at all anymore, for all he knows is he's engulfed in liquid flames similar to those described in the forbidden books.</p><p>Now he knows. Now he understands.</p><p>And he screams his most sacred prayer as he gives himself over to the fire and the enemy and his God and utter bliss.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Surrender</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Galen may be many things, but stupid isn't one of them. He knows not to underestimate the enemy and has seen what men are capable of, both on and off the battlefield. He's a seasoned soldier and has seen it all.</p><p>Or so he thinks.</p><p>As a Warrior of the Holy Order, he never engaged in claiming any spoils of war, as that would violate several of his vows, but he is of course aware of what it may include.</p><p>But he never once wasted a thought at the possibility of finding himself claimed a prize. Certainly, no man, however primitive or brutish, would dare assault a servant to a higher power; certainly, what's holy will remain unscathed.</p><p>Alas, as it is, it occurs to him that misjudgment is as dangerous as underestimation, and so he finds himself prey in the clutches of the victor, a man high in rank but oh so low in morals.</p><p>Torn between the urge to preserve his dignity as a warrior and his decency as a holy man, Galen briefly considers resistance but concludes that the more he fights, the more he will be stripped of both.</p><p>In hindsight, he isn't certain it could have come any worse.</p><p>He's utterly wrecked, all he ever stood for and all he ever was shred to pieces under the string of vile attacks. His mouth and throat are as sore as his asshole from hours of assault, and his cock is still leaking and yet hard again.</p><p>Galen lost count of how many times he succumbed to the shameful pleasure, and pleasure it was—sometimes more so, sometimes less. And that is, perhaps, the worst: Of all the vows Galen took when joining the Order, celibacy has always been the most important to him, and the years of restraint crumbling like dust tears him utterly apart.</p><p>The Commander withdraws his fingers from Galen's well-fucked asshole—Galen moans without realizing—and barks an order at him that he doesn't understand. With the fire of sin consuming him the way it does, Galen doesn't think he could understand even if they spoke the same language. Nonetheless, he props himself up on his forearms and lifts his hips higher, as so far, two times out of three, it was the right choice.</p><p>This time, he receives laughter and a slap on the ass.</p><p>“Stand,” the Commander says with a heavy accent, and Galen, wondering if maybe his ordeal is finally over, scrambles to his feet.</p><p>When he turns around, he's presented with a sword—his <i>own</i> sword—held out to him. </p><p>Galen shakes his head. He doesn't comprehend.</p><p>The Commander makes a few thrusting moves with the blade, bucks his hips, and barks out another laugh as Galen's face drains of all color.</p><p>Galen shakes his head again, but he already knows he has no choice. Thus, when he's gestured to stand by the wall, he does. Like a whore or a slave, he braces himself against the rough stone, legs spread and ass presented. And while there's no pay for him, he wonders briefly if he may be conditioned already; he didn't think that could happen so fast, but if it did, it's probably his own fault for not opting to fight while he still could.</p><p>Standing still, forehead against the cool wall, Galen listens to the footsteps approaching. When he feels a sweaty hand on the small of his back and shortly afterwards the pommel of his own sword nudging his oversensitive asshole, he wants to cry, but he bites it down. There's no use in crying. Never has been.</p><p>Instead, he grits his teeth and focuses on breathing evenly.</p><p>Although Galen clenches, the pommel still breaches him with ease, and then he feels the entire hilt enter him, all the way to the cross-guard. It's so humiliating that he refuses to think about what he's fucked with. His mind returns to before, when the Commander had his cock buried inside him balls-deep, and while that's still a terrible thought, it's far better. It's bearable.</p><p>For a few minutes, the Commander fucks him in a slow but steady rhythm while Galen tries his best to appear unfazed. Then, the man reaches around to grab Galen's cock and stroke it along with his thrusts, and that eventually draws a moan from the warrior's throat.</p><p>That's also when Galen notices he's <i>still</i> hard, or maybe yet again, who knows—who keeps track—and a few strokes and thrusts later, two things happen almost at once.</p><p>First, the remainder of Galen's resistance crumbles as he feels the flames inside him rekindled without him being able to prevent it any more than before.</p><p>Next, the Commander reaches for Galen's right hand and guides it to one side of the cross-guard.</p><p>And so, the once mighty warrior breaks once and for all, now that the floodgates are wide open. He helps fucking his ass with his sword while his conquering enemy jacks him to another sinfully blissful orgasm, and all the while, he knows it won't be the last time.</p><p>He doesn't mind, though.</p>
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